Saturday, June 24, 2006

A roller skating jam called Saturday

*Edit - because, in addition to being a scatterbrain, I have far too many things to say (such that my part-Irish mother likes to say, as her uncle said of her, that I not only kissed the Blarney Stone, I swallowed it) and can never remember everything that I need, er, want, to say... a note has been added below.

From the look of my blogging to-do list, there is going to be some Very Heavy Blogging going on over the coming week or two. And we kicked things off good the other day with the morose reflection on death and the human tendency to accidental cruelty that was this post. So before we go wandering any further in the Forests of Deep Thoughts and dipping our toes in the Swamps of Despair and trying our hand in the Boxing Ring of 21st Century Feminism (where I will take on both Caitlin Flanagan and Linda Hirshman at the same time, in a frenzied smackdown that will involve pinching, name-calling and the bashing together of feminist heads. Are you ready to rrrruuuuummmble?!?!?), we need a little ephemera. To lighten things up...

Yep, that's WonderBaby in the foreground. Completely non-plussed, intent as she was on gumming that bicky into submission while fighting sleep. And that woman behind him, in the polyester slacks, with the home perm and the shades? No idea who she is. But moments after this picture was taken, she dropped to the ground and did a rolling side-kick to the back of Zanta's knees and took him down. It was beautiful.

4) Toronto Mama real life liquor-soaked playgroup bloggin' has gone off-site, to another blogspot location. (No, I am not trying to turn the blogosphere into my own little SimCity. And no, I am not making a run at world domination. I prefer to think of my efforts as falling somewhere between those of Pericles and Mr. Rogers. More Sesame-Street-gone-Socratic than SimCity or world-historical empire-building.)

And this little project is, for the moment, largely functioning in a blog-decluttering capacity. My last handful of posts have all had Toronto Activity Announcements tacked onto them and, you know, that kind of stuff can really interfere with the clean poetic lines (cough) of an otherwise tidy (cough) post. So. All discussion of mama-blogger things Torontonian (that is, at least, those things coming from this corner) will now occur over here, a place that I was so tempted to call Her Bad Mother's Backyard, or Her Bad Mother's 'Hood, but that I don't want it to be entirely mine. (This isn't BadMotherVille. If anything, it's WonderBabyLandia, but we're trying to discourage imperial impulses 'round here these days.) Check it out, and check back for latest news about the upcoming get-together.

Please visit the Basement for a cookie and chat with our current visitor. While you're there, you might also check the back corner, where there is a Dad - yes, a DAD - venting over a beer. Give him your support, 'cause Dads need love, too...

22 Comments:

(1)Sorry 'bout Kermit. Crawl by gummings have been rampant in our neck of the woods too. I guess it will be summer of the gum (ha ha ha ha ha ha cough cough - oh that joke was in real poor taste for any other fellow TO people - sorry but I couldn't resist).

(2)Are you serious? Did Zanta get taken out by polyester perm woman? I'm so gullible sometimes...

I'm sorry to hear about the Dancers - will they be building their own permanent venue, like Cirque did? I could do with seeing more of them. God, I can't wait to meet your most adorable babe. I apologize in advance if I can't refrain from nibbling on her cute chubby little cheeks! Mine is looking a lot more like a KID these days, though she said herself yesterday that she was a "tiny kid." hee hee.

You are seriously talented, bitch! Is it wrong that I call everyone bitch even when I'm not drunk. Thank God for bloggers like you who keep me sane and less isolated. But why are all the good bloggers in Canada?

You know between you and me things Socratic really don't get the respect they deserve these days. Maybe you and I could work on a script for, The Life Socratic but who would star? Do you think Norm MacDonald could do it.. noooooo. Keanu? Too bad Phil Hartman's dead, eh? Kevin Spacey seems on a path to nowhere maybe he'd go for it?

Than again just because my husband fails to appreciate the role of Socratic method in a healthy message really should NOT be held as representing a social trend, should it?

Okay, okay, okay, I have been dying to contact you since yesterday. I SAW ZANTA!!!

I was in Bloor West Village at a Charity Bazaar/Yard Sale thing for my work and he got off the subway at Runneymede and was posing for everyone and tried to dive in the side window at McDonald's only to be shooed away. I kept saying to my volunteers...look there is Zanta. There is Zanta. He never came over too us though ... he was off looking for you and Wonderbaby I suspect.

Okay, Mo-Wo, since you threw it out there - WHEN we write The Life Socratic we will SO be demanding lunch with Kevin Spacey (and you know that he'll take our call) because from the looks of things he totally SMOKES in the new Superman movie. Which I have no interest in seeing but for what I've read about Kevin Spacey rockin' the villain thing, which makes me think that I may soon be replacing my Alan Rickman Die Hard crush with a Kevin Spacey Lex Luther crush.

Which makes me think that there may be a whole lot of upcoming posts on Nietszche and real UberMenschen and the allure of bad guys...

But I was talking about The Life Socratic... Spacey will play a latter day Thrasymachus. Michel Gondry will direct. Steve Buscemi, Bill Murray and Peter Stormare will cameo.

And the voice of Tim Allen as Socrates - CGI animated, of course - with green-screen body work by Andy Serkis.

Lost a leg in a crawl-by gumming?!?!?! Do you know how hard it is to cover up a snort at work? Especially when it involves diet coke up the nose?!?!?Wonderbaby is beyond cute. Love the pink bicyclesuit!

I have seen "Zanta" too many times. For instance, walking to Queen's Park where I work at 6:30 in the morning. I have never seen him with clothes on so you were lucky. Typically it's naked Zanta with his hat. I have recounted my Zanta tales for people I know (typically suburbanites) and no one believes me.

HBM, I don't even know where to start, except to say that you absolutely slay me and to ask if I can do the onsite research and photography for The Life Socratic, because I'm just dying to go to Greece again. And I want Zanta to come with me and be my bodyguard.

I vote Zissou, with the accompanying soundtrack of acoustic reggae Bowie songs.

I started composing an email directly to Hirshman today. Her whiney backtracking non-apology really punched me in the gut. My first comment is that if she thinks the only two choices out there are hers or Flanagan's, then we're all fucked.